


I'll be waiting for You to rescue me

by ghettoassenglishman



Series: Take my hand--Take My Whole life too [6]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mickey saves the day because lets face it he would do anything for Ian, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:53:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3345974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>anonymous said; one where Ian and Mickey have a fallout and ian ends up meeting some guys who take advantage over him and won't let him leave their house, then Mickey comes and rescues him or some shit like that plus a fluffy end if u can</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll be waiting for You to rescue me

**Author's Note:**

> Thankyou for the prompt!!! I tried my best like, I based it lightly off My Mad Fat Diary when it happens to Chloe - hope its ok like

Ian and Mickey had a rough turn, they argued for a week non-stop. Both saying things neither of them meant, Mickey was angry he couldn't hold it in. He ended up calling Ian something he so dearly wished he hadn't. The redhead had left on the monday, taking all of his shit and not yet returning. Mickey was getting worried, the silence of his bedroom luring him into darkness, he had tried to push himself to find him, take him home, but he just couldn't get the thought out his head of Ian just not wanting to come back. The Gallagher's hadn't contacted him so he guessed Ian was there, he probably told them he wanted nothing more from Mickey. Mickey knew he deserved it. It was Friday, and still no sign of Ian, which in this case was fucking worrying. Ian would always come back.

 

Mickey was in the middle of pouring out some milk into his cereal when he heard a knock on the door. Svetlana had taken Yev out for his jabs, something to do with healthy children lifestyle or some shit. Mickey had rejected the offer of joining, he didn't want to see a bunch of screaming babies, especially now he had been drinking more than ever. Hangovers are bitches. Slowly making his way to the door, he wasn't faced with the right ginger. Or the right Gallagher, for that matter. Debbie Gallagher was stood, flushed face, scarf wrapped around her neck, shivering on his doorstep. He didn't understand why she wouldn't just walk in, but then again, she was probably there to tear him a new one. Kick his ass like all the Gallagher's would threat to do.

 

“I need your help.” Is all Debbie said, letting herself in and turning to Mickey for an answer. The red puffs under her eyes told him she had been crying, not just little tears, but a fuck load of sobs. He knew that look anywhere, he knew it after all the times he had seen Ian in the exact same state, maybe worse. He hated seeing him like that. Mickey stood there in shock, was he seriously getting asked for advice, _him?_

 

He pushed past the teenager, making his way back over to his bowl. “You want me to beat some fucker up? He touched you or some shit?” That's all people asked for, the only thing Mickey was actually good at. Fucking people up. Turning them black and blue. He should be a professional hitman the amount of times people had come to him to beat the shit out of someone. Debbie bit her lip, the same way Ian would do if he was itching to get something out, he put the bottle of milk down, being more serious. “Spit it out, red.”

 

Debbie pursed her lips, swaying a little. “It's Ian. I need your help with Ian.” She put her hands on her hips, shit, she had gotten bossy. Mickey's heart nearly dropped with the mention of Ian, he missed that fucker like frank missed his booze. A sure hell of a lot. He moved himself closer, getting a more clearer ear-shot of what she was about to say. He wasn't sure what to expect, he guessed it was something bad for all the fidgeting and stuttering she was doing. “He left on tuesday, said he had work, he hasn't been back since.” She added, eyes not leaving Mickey's as they glassed over.

 

Mickey could guess where Ian was, out fucking some guy most probably. Or letting some old fucker bone him because he felt worthless – it had to be because of their fall out. Shit. “Where the fuck did he go?” He asked protectively, right now he was willing to bring his gun and hunt that fucker down. He wouldn't stop to kill someone who was most probably taking advantage of him. Then again, Mickey remembered Ian taking off with Yev, maybe Ian took a road trip.

 

“I asked that Ned guy, and he said he saw Ian with some guys going into a block of flats two blocks from here. I went there and they-they wouldn't let me in, they said Ian was fine. I didn't believe them for one second, I tried to get in, I really did Mickey.” All her words were stuttering out at once, like a blabbering mess of sobs. Mickey tried to concentrate on what she was saying – trying to process it all. For all they knew the guys could be beating Ian, using him, drugging him up and leaving him alone to fucking die.

 

“You went there on your fucking own?” He asked, not understanding why it was only Debbie who had rushed over to some possible, dangerous fucks house. Where was Lip, Fiona? Did they just forget that Ian could be going AWOL. Before she answered he was already in the gun cabinet, grabbing his handgun and a couple of small knives. He slotted one into his boot, another in his belt beside his gun.

 

Debbie watched his wearily, eyes rimming with tears, he could see how worried she was. He could see how terrified she was, not only for Ian but off the fucks she had to face alone. “Lip is still at Amanda's, I tried to call him but his phone has been off for days. Fiona pops in now and again, but she's been at the Diner and at Gus' and I never have the time to tell her shit. Please help me Mickey.” She knew Mickey would, he was the only one who really cared for Ian. The only one he took him in and looked after him despite everything. In his eyes she could sense, know entirely that he loved Ian, even if he didn't admit it.

 

“Fuck, Of course I will. Now, you need to tell me where this flat is, we're going to get Ian, alright. I'm getting him back.” Mickey assured her, because that was what he was going to do. Even if it meant killing some bone-headed fucks in the process, he needed Ian home. They all needed him home. Shit, Mickey wasn't even angry any more. He needed Ian more than anything and last couple of days had been hell without him. Debbie reached for a knife but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Fuck that, you ain't coming with me.”

 

“Why not?” She asked abruptly.

 

Mickey sighed, loading up a gun and placing it back into his belt. “If things get bloody I don't want you seeing that shit. It's too fucking dangerous, go home try call Lip or Fiona. I'll be back later.”

 

Debbie slowly nodded, taking what Mickey said seriously. She knew when he said something with an “if” it most likely meant he was going to beat the crap out of something or someone. “With Ian?” she wanted that remeasurement, that agreement that her brother was getting home.

 

Mickey bit his lip, knowing that he was going to do whatever the fuck he could to get Ian out, even if the kid was kicking and screaming, he would get him the fuck out. Ian was his, as much as Ian slept around, Ian was always his. “With Ian.”

 

–

 

Debbie had told him the address, a couple of names and the flat number. Mickey was stood outside the door, ready to aim his gun and shoot if they didn't let him in. There was no point of knocking because things were going to get hectic anyway. Kicking the door through, he knocked it against the hinges, eyes latching onto a group of men huddled around the table snorting coke – or any substance he could see lined up against the surface.

 

“Who the fuck are you?” One of them asked, he guessed it was the leader, the one who had squared up to Debbie. He was a big fucker, hench with tattoos all over him. Mickey's eyes casted over them, trying to catch a sight of red hair but there wasn't any redheads sitting around. “Hey you fucking basturd, who the fuck are yo-

 

With one slam of his fist the fucker went down, holding onto his broken nose. The others scrambled up, some reason they didn't have any weapons, lucky for Mickey. The brunette held up his gun, switching its aim from person to person, they all held their hands up, some still had coke latched below their noses. “I'm your worst fucking nightmare. Now, where the fuck is Ian?” They all looked confused, looking at eachother for answers. “I said where the fuck is Ian.”

One of them waved their hand a little, “You mean Curtis?” Mickey could of guessed Ian would use a fake name. It gave him a sense of security, that he wasn't the same person. Ian had told him that, he had told him that giving himself that fake identity in a way made him feel safe, that they couldn't really get to him. Mickey nodded, eyes narrowing as his gun shifted closer. He flicked the safety off, his aim clearer as day. The guy stuttered for words, eyes casting to the guy curling in on himself on the floor then back to Mickey. “He's, ur, he's in the back. Don't shoot, please man, we're just having a little fun.”

 

Mickey laughed to himself, ragingly, “Fun? Is that what you call using a seventeen year old kid for some cheap fucks? Huh, man you should be praying I don't break those kneecaps of yours.” Mickey spat onto the ground, it landing onto the head of the fuck below him. He stepped towards the directed room, gun still pointed at the guys all lined up around the table full of coke. “Scatter, get the fuck out of here before I shoot you all dead fucking one by one.” They all ran off, one shouting back that he didn't know Ian's age. Of course they didn't, Ian would of told them different.

 

The house smelt stale of take out, sex, drugs and lingering booze. As soon as he stepped into the small room he was hit with the smell of death. Not literal, but he could say it was. Before him he noticed the boy he called his boyfriend, shivering against the headboard of a bed with a small glass in his hand. He looked limp, frozen and simply Skinner than he had ever been. Mickey gasped at the sight, registering the fact that Ian was paler, thinner, broken. He stepped forward, dropping his gun from its angle, he pushed it into his belt before sitting onto the edge of the bed, one hand resting onto Ian's nerve-wracking ankle. “Ian?”

 

The distant looking boy looked towards him, eyes red raw, tears aimlessly falling from them. There were bruises spread across Ian's chest, arms and neck - all growing darker. “Mickey, what are you doing here?” The younger boy wrapped his arms around his knee's, pulling his head towards them. All his hair was ripped, torn, pulled around the scalp. All he was wearing was a thin tank-top and a pair of boxers. Mickey gulped, he didn't want to see Ian like this, he needed to take him home.

 

“I've come to take you home, everyone is fucking worried about you.” The redhead didn't look up at Mickey's words. The brunette stuttered to get them out, the only thing that would get the fragile boy to look towards him again. “ _I_ was worried about you.” It was like a whisper, he drew himself closer, had still locked against his ankle incase he lost him all over again. Mickey promised himself that this would never, ever, happen again. No one was going to hurt Ian without Mickey killing them. 

 

Ian tried to pull up a smile, but a whining sob escaped his lips, hand clinking against his glass as he shook. “I'm fine.” He whispered, wanting to touch Mickey like that would before, now he felt dirty, unworthy of that love, unworthy of Mickey. It was all fucked now, he had fucked it up, he had let himself go. Mickey worked too hard to be crushed again. “No- one's hurt me.” He scratched his face hard.

 

Mickey pulled his hand away from his face gently, intertwining his own with it. The ball-bearing anger was banging against his chest, this time he might not beable to control it, all he wanted to do was go into the next room and make that fucker pay for what he had done to Ian, his Ian. “Don't you fucking lie Ian, I know they have hurt you. You – You,” He stuttered again, hitting himself mentally for letting himself crack when he needed to be strong to get Ian out of there. “You don't deserve this.” Ultimately he blamed himself.

 

Ian scratched his face again, the cup falling from his lap and onto the bed beside him. “You're too good for me Mick. I'm a fucking mess, you shouldn't have to take care of me, take care of  _this.”_ Ian let Mickey pull at his hand, he didn't feel like moving. He was at the stage of just lying there, taking whatever anyone had to give him. “Here we just fuck, have fun, get wasted. I fooled around with Ben the other night, I mean what kind of person does that to their boyfriend? I'm a horrible person Mick, you should just leave me here. Just go.” Ian racked into sobs, head resting into the gap of his legs, he shook against the bed. Mickey wasn't sure what to do – he was always shit at this – but for Ian, he was willing to do anything. 

 

“I really don't give a shit about what you did with these guys.Yes, you're fucking stupid, God you're such an idiot. But not because you messed up, but because you think you're nothing. We had the shittest week, yes, but that doesn't change how I fucking feel.” Mickey felt weird revealing his undying feelings, but he knew Ian needed to hear it. Mickey felt that slight betrayal from Ian, the factor that he went out and slept with someone just when times got hard, he couldn't say that now or confront Ian yet, he would never leave if he did.“I'm fucking angry that I let it get to this.”

 

Ian pulled at the top against his chest, his mouth creating a inhuman sound as he sobbed louder. Mickey tried to pull Ian to his chest but he was pushed away with forceful hands. “I know what you're thinking Mickey – I know that you hate me, I would hate me too.” He pulled at his hair, loosing some strands that already looked like they were going to fall out. The sobs were brought back again, Mickey watched his own eyes glazing over because fuck, he had never seen Ian like this. Not as bad as this, anyway. “Do you have any idea how it feels when someone literally can't keep their hands off you and they grab you like – like their crazy? They wouldn't stop Mickey, they just – I know you think I'm a bad person, I can see that.”

 

Mickey frantically shook his head, jaw clenching because he wanted nothing more to beat the shit out of the fucks that had done this. “No, I don't fucking think that. I would never think that, so shut the fuck up.” He palmed Ian's cheek firmly, scooting the fallen piece of hair out of his face, he didn't give into Ian's protests, Ian would sit and listen because this was probably one of those rare occasions that Mickey would open up like this. “I'm getting you out of here, I'm taking you home. You're mine Ian, bad or fucking not. These fucks have messed with you and boy george I'm coming back at them a hundred times worse. I- I need you Ian, I fucking need you.” Before Ian could speak, not like he could have the strength, he wrapped his arms around him,

 

The redhead clutched onto his jacket, head tucked into Mickey's neck as he cried out. His body shook against Mickey's, his wails bouncing against the walls and instantly shooting daggers into Mickey's heart. This was his fault – he had let this happen. Ian mumbled into Mickey's shoulder, “I'm scared, Mickey.”

 

Mickey ran his hand along Ian's back, his arm wrapped around him harshly so he couldn't let go. “I know. But it will be all right.” He kissed the side of Ian's face, pulling him out so he could kiss a tender peck against his salty, wet lips. “everything will be all right.”

 

–

 

That night Ian was scaredly, clinging onto Mickey with dear life. They were in their bed, safe and sound, but Ian was still shaking, still wondering why Mickey had even come to look for him. Both of them were still awake, just basking in each others breathing. Ian was the first one to speak, after spending most of him time in silence.

 

“Why did you come find me?” Ian asked quietly, already knowing about Debbie coming round and telling him – but he wanted to know, really, why Mickey had gone after all the shit that went down that week. “I cheated on you _again,_ that's too many chances Mick.”

 

Mickey shifted a little, arm still a pillow under the redhead's neck. “I meant what I said. I'm fucking pissed that you went to those guys when shit went hard, but I know what your head does to you. You're fucking mine – fuck, I sound gay and corny but yeh, I need you around Gallagher.” For once he was happy for the darkness, it helped him when declaring shit he wasn't usually ready for, despite the lack of light though, he could still see Ian smile.

 

“What are they all saying about me?” Ian was referring to his family, of course, they all knew by now. Fiona and Lip had gotten in touch, they said they would be round soon to check on him. Mickey made it very clear that Ian wasn't an exhibit at a zoo and that they needed to always know he was alright, not to just come round when he was having a rough patch.

 

“They think you're a ticking time bomb or some shit – They didn't see the shit they did to you though, man.” Mickey answered, his sweet tone more than enduring. Ian let a tear roll against his nose, falling onto Mickey's arm. All he wanted was to not be a ticking time bomb – he wanted to be normal.

 

Ian pulled the smaller boy closer, if possible, and kissed at his shoulder. “I don't give a shit what anyone thinks, I just care what you think.” Again, he kissed at Mickey's skin, little pecks against the pale surface. Finally he rested his hand onto Mickey's chest, legs tangled with the others and arms protectively hugging, and probably squishing, Mickey's small body.

 

“Well” Mickey started, hands running through Ian's hair, his other removing the small strands that had found themselves falling against his head recently, out of the way. “I think your idiot for thinking I'd never come get you , but you're my idiot. What I also think is that you always say that bullshit to get me to be corny _again,_ you may be my idiot but your an even bigger _ass._ ”

 

Ian chuckled against his chest, humming against the soft touch of his boyfriend. Jesus – was it legal to call Mickey his saviour? Because if anything Mickey had saved him.

**Author's Note:**

> you want to send me some prompts:)? come find me at im-an-angel-y0u-ass.tumblr.com


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